


My Knees Get Weak

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Cultural Differences, F/M, Fluff + Worldbuilding, Mostly Fluff, Original Character(s), Original Female Character - Freeform, Original Male Character - Freeform, Swing Dancing, fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7225768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Marianne learns about the land bordering the other side of the Dark Forest. Through a party.</p><p>There be dancing ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Knees Get Weak

**Author's Note:**

> This got out of hand...

Marianne usually hated surprises. She usually hated not knowing things, hated being unprepared, hated the attention that came from everyone expecting a reaction from her for being surprised. It didn’t help of course that most of the surprises in Marianne’s life hadn’t exactly been happy surprises.

However, she was slowly learning how to get past that, particularly where her lover was concerned.

The Bog King didn’t intentionally set up surprises for her, per se. It was only that every little thing about his Kingdom surprised her, and every new entertainment or experience he went out of his way to show her always came as some form of shock to Marianne. There was really no way to prepare for the Dark Forest, a kingdom both vast and diverse, and so Marianne learned to let herself be surprised, especially once she realized how much Bog enjoyed her reactions to the Forest, like he was seeing it for the first time himself.

So when Bog invited her to a party, Marianne tried not to hound him with too many questions, knowing he would prefer it to be a surprise.

But it was hard.

“What’s the party for?” Marianne asked the morning he had invited her, trailing him as he escorted her to the mouth of the castle for her return to the fields. “We’re not to the solstice yet and you’ve told me goblins don’t celebrate those anyways.”

It was strange to see _Bog_ , of all people, get excited about a party. Stranger still because this wasn’t a new thing; Marianne _had_  been to a handful of goblin parties in the time that they had begun courting. They were loud, rambunctious things, full of food and drink and sound that might be considered music, and Marianne was still more in the observing than participating stage. Thankfully for her, Bog was more than happy to sit with her on his throne and oversee the… proceedings. Still, Marianne would have described the experiences as fun. A very different kind of fun than the fairy balls she knew, or even the upbeat elf festivals held this time of year, but she found she liked this fun even more.

Bog looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s not a goblin party,” he said simply. Marianne bit her lip to keep from laughing at the almost giddy quality to his usually gruff voice. He really  _was_  excited. Fascinating. 

She was so fascinated it almost took her a minute to realize what he said. “Wait- not a-? Well it’s certainly not a fairy party, or an elf one for that matter.”

“No, it’s not,” Bog agreed.

“Then what is it?” He rolled his eyes at her inquisitive nature and she lightly punched him. “C’mon Bog, please just give me a little more to go on here. Where is it?”

He stopped, studying her for a moment, and she could have laughed as his thoughts played over his features as well as if he spoke them; warring over whether or not to leave her in the dark and savor her surprise later, or respect her desire to have some idea what she was getting into.

Finally he sighed, his smile coming back one-sided. “It’s called the Del. Technically they are part of the Dark Forest but they operate under their own government and society.”

“Like, an alliance?” Marianne asked, a little confused but mostly enthralled. She knew little about the Dark Forest’s government aside from knowing Bog was their king, and even before meeting and entering a relationship with said king, she had always had a fascination with learning more about the land on the other side of the primroses.

He laughed at that, but not cruelly. “Aye, I suppose alliance could cover it, if spread thin.”

“But they’re not goblins?”

“Nae, they’re not what ye would know as goblins. But- they’re not so dissimilar,” he fidgeted slightly, his shoulders rustling a little. “They’re- ah- my father was from the Del.”

“Wait, your father- but how- what’re-”

“You’re goin to be late to a council meeting if you don’t go,” Bog said pointedly, amusement curling again at his mouth.

They were at the entrance of his new castle, and she glared first at the dawn light outside and then up at Bog again. How dare he stoke her curiosity like this, without giving her the satisfaction of knowing more.

He raised his hands as though to ward off her anger. “By all means, Tough Girl, yer welcome to stay.”

Marianne made a face, knowing that he teased her… but he was right. Her father had been loathe to let her spend her nights in the Forest as it was – she had spent hours convincing him that it would not interfere with her duties as princess and heir to the fields. She couldn’t allow herself to miss even one council meeting, couldn’t give some of the elders any ammunition against her and Bog’s relationship, or their tenuous alliance to the Forest.

She poked his chest, hard enough that he let out a little huff of air in a breathless laugh. “You are telling me everything tonight, you got that your majesty? Everything.”

He gave that little laugh again, shaking his head at her in wonder. “Does this mean ye’ll go?”

Marianne was startled; until that moment she’d forgotten that the invitation to this… party, had been just that – an invitation. And one she hadn’t responded to because she had been too busy with her own questions. Well, that and-

“Is that even a question? Of course I’ll go,” she said, keeping her voice light. She stepped into his space, tilting her chin up in an invitation of her own.

Bog broke into a foolish looking grin, before kissing her warmly. Breaking it Marianne was sure her smile was more than a little foolish, too, but damn it all, she loved the way he kissed her, the way he made her feel.

“See you tonight,” she added, giving him one more peck.

Without another word, she took off, smiling when she heard Bog belatedly shake his own post-kiss stupor and call after her, “I love ye!”

She shook her head; to think, not long ago both of them had been sure they’d never say those words, much less shout them with such uninhibited joy. A laugh bubbled up and she spun mid-air to look back.

“Love you too!”

* * *

 

The area was called The Del because they lived on the delta wetlands at the confluence of two streams that became the waterway that ran through the Dark Forest all the way to beneath Bog’s castle before winding through the Fields as well. The race that lived there had an agreement similar to what the fairies had with the elves and brownies of the Fields – or rather, _could_ have if the court didn’t seem set on age-old ideas of superiority – and were called Bog Fae.

“It’s how my father got his title of the first _Bog_ King,” Bog explained that night. “When he was crowned.”

“Wait, wait wait,” Marianne said, craning her neck to look at him. She sat cross-legged between his legs, watching a lightshow of fireflies dance throughout the forest, while he plaited her hair – or at least attempted to. It was an excuse to touch her hair, they both knew it, but Marianne would be the last person to complain. “I thought you’d said your name _was_ your title – and that was that.”

Bog, bless him, was patient with her. It wasn’t as though he was unfamiliar with the concept of being lost in his lover’s culture. “Aye, Tough Girl, _my_ name is just tha’. My _father_ ’s was given to him when he became king.” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“So… they gave him a new title so he would fit in with the previous kings of the Dark Forest,” Marianne said slowly. Bog made an affirming noise behind her, returning to his task. She hummed thoughtfully. “Bog King, from the Bog Fae… What was his name before – do you know?”

“Aye, I know. Only because the Fae have never called him by his title, even when he was their king.” There was a pause, before Bog seemed to realize she was waiting for him to give the name. “Asphodel.”

“Asphodel?” Marianne repeated. “That’s awfully-“ She cut herself off before she called it _pretty_ , unsure how Bog would take it.

He made a noncommittal noise, as if he shared her unspoken sentiment. “It’s a kind of plant that grows in the wetlands there. The same kind of gold as his eyes.”

“Huh,” Marianne said softly. It was, well, it wasn’t a very goblin name – but then it appeared Bog’s father hadn’t been a goblin at all, so perhaps it did fit. It was strange, she thought, learning that the current king was only half goblin, especially when that king was Bog. Bog, who had spent years internalizing that he looked nothing like his subjects, feeling hideous and unwanted for that appearance. He had told her long before that he took after his father physically, but now knowing there was a whole race – relatives of his – whom he resembled… did it make him feel better knowing his appearance wasn’t _so_ alien, or did it make him feel worse, as though he weren’t goblin enough to be the king?

“What are ye thinking?” Bog’s voice interrupted her musings.

Not about to touch on any of those thoughts, she asked instead. “Your dad’s eyes were gold? I thought they’d have been blue like yours.” She turned around again to look at him – even in the late evening light the blue of his eyes seemed to glow. They were gorgeous, his eyes, and what’s more, they were the one feature he appeared to appreciate as well.

“Nae, blue eyes are a common goblin trait. Blue or grey.”

“Huh,” Marianne said again. She’d never really looked much into goblin genetics, or noticed any eyes besides Bog’s. Admittedly, it was hard to notice anyone’s eyes after seeing his, she thought and snorted softly.

Bog made an inquisitive sound, cocking his head a little. She shook her head, “So what is this party _for_ anyways? What are they celebrating?”

“The Del is a large area, mostly water. Many of the Fae live on it, rather than on the shores, and are more- er- nomadic because of it. But twice a year they gather together. It’s as much a reunion festival, as it is a council meeting, to see how everythin fares.”

Marianne spluttered into a laugh. “A council meeting? They have parties for their council meetings?”

“Says a fairy whose kingdom has parties for every atmospheric change,” he said dryly. Marianne wrinkled her nose at him, and he poked it with one long claw. “It’s not a meetin as ye or I’d know it, Tough Girl, but it does explain my attendance.”

“What – you’re only going because you’re the king?” Marianne asked.

“Nae, I _have_ to go because I’m the king,” Bog amended. “I _am_ goin because I wish to.”

Somehow that made sense. “So, you like them?”

“The Fae or their parties?” Bog raised a hand before she could respond. “The answer is the same; I do. They’re different. They’re not quite goblins and they’re certainly not fairies, an’ I’m not quite one of them – but the way they get when they’re all together… ye can’t help but feel like yer part of it.”

And he liked that. Marianne quietly thought about what it meant for him that that was the selling point: belonging. What it meant about her as well, that her first mental question was to wonder if it would feel the same for her. What a pair they made, she thought and smiled.

“I can’t wait,” she told him honestly, getting to her feet. It was officially dark out, and she’d be up early the next morning for more meetings in her kingdom. “I’ll have to tell Dawn about it tomorrow – she’ll want to find me something to wear.”

“Ye don’t need-“

“Oh, I know, but I like to humor her now and then.” Bog made a face and she laughed. “Besides, it’ll make her feel better for not being invited. Unless she is?”

Bog made a very different face, getting to his feet himself. “Nae this time, I think. The Fae might be a bit _much_ for her, though I think she’d like the dancing.”

Marianne blanched. “Dancing? There’s _dancing_?”

“It is a party,” Bog deadpanned. “Ye should know, my fairy princess, that parties frequently involve dancing.”

“Yeah but- but goblin parties don’t have dancing!”

“Depends on yer definition of dancing,” Bog said, pointedly. “Besides, the Fae aren’t goblins, remember?”

She did, and logically this made all the sense in the world. It was just Marianne really, _really_ hated dancing. She’d never understand how she could be so coordinated with her sword fighting but be incapable of any sort of grace in the ballroom. Not that she’d ever really had practice, or someone to practice with. Now she had Bog, of course, but Bog had seemed more than happy to simply hover on the sidelines with her at fairy balls, making sarcastic commentary and enjoying each other’s company. She figured he was as bad at it as she, if not worse, coming from a kingdom that didn’t really value dancing the way fairies did. But if Bog Fae did…

Bog must have seen the array of emotions on her face because his expression softened. “It’s not mandatory, love,” he said, gently, brushing some of her hair back from her face. “Ah’m not gonna make ye do anything that yer uncomfortable with.”

Something about his phrasing caught her. “Wait - you can dance?”

“A-aye,” he said.

“ _You_  can dance?”

“The shock and disbelief in your voice is doin’ wonders for my self-esteem, Tough Girl.”

“But-“

“It’s not- Ah’m nae particularly talented, especially compared to some, but Ah do know how,” he scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with her sudden scrutiny. “Ah wouldn’t know the first thing about yer fairy waltzes,” he added.

That made her feel better, and she felt silly for it. “That makes two of us,” she said, trying to smile again. “Sorry I- I didn’t mean to get all- to freak out, you know? And, um, sorry about all the questions- I know I’m making this whole party thing a big deal and you’re probably tired of-“

Bog cut her off, a long finger resting over her lips. She met his eyes and was rewarded with his gentle smile. She loved that smile, so soft it almost looked unnatural on his sharp features, loved knowing that she was the one who put it there. The whirlwind of insecurity and nerves died at the sight of it.

He looked as though he’d been ready to tell her she was forgiven, or to brush the whole thing aside, but was distracted by the feel of her lips under the pad of his finger. She watched his eyes darken slightly, let him trace the curve of her mouth, and wasn’t at all surprised when he decided to forgo words altogether, drawing her in and kissing her instead.

“Still excited?” He asked when he pulled away.

It took Marianne an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize he was talking about the party. “Yes,” she said, and meant it. This was more than Bog just showing her a new part of his kingdom, this was more than overseeing a goblin party or making snarky remarks during a fairy ball – this was something he really enjoyed, and he was offering to share it with her. And frankly, it sounded like Marianne’s kind of adventure. Dancing or no dancing.

“Yes,” she said again. “You know how much I like adventures.” She poked his long nose with her finger.

Bog groaned. “Clearly it’s time for bed. Yer gettin sentimental.”

“If we had to go to bed every time _you_ were getting sentimental – we’d never leave,” Marianne returned, laughing.

“Now that’s just cruel.”

* * *

 

Two days later, in midafternoon, Bog appeared, hovering by the balcony of her bedroom.

Marianne leaned out, resting her forearms on the railing and grinning. “I thought the party was tonight, your majesty.”

“I think you underestimate how far the Del is from my palace, princess,” he said, with a smirk of his own. “Is that what you’re wearin?”

“Hm?” She looked down, and then blushed because it was indeed what she had been planning to wear. “Oh, yes.” It was a one-piece romper in a deep leafy green with straps that came up and tied behind her neck. Over that went a skirt made out of the petals of a tulip tree, pale green with a vibrant red stripe across each petal.

She had actually been trying it on for the first time since Dawn had picked it out for her, studying herself in the mirror and, stupidly, imagining herself dancing in it. The petal skirt flared out with spins in a becoming way, showing off a lot of leg.

Indulgently, she did a little twist of her hips, letting the skirt flare again. “You like it?” She asked, equal parts coy and genuinely curious.

Bog’s crooked smile was a dangerous thing, but he simply said, “Ye look like summer.”

She snorted. “That’s awfully poetic.”

“Ye like it.”

“You like _this_.” She extended her leg to him, now very coy indeed, and laughed as she watched his eyes travel its length. Oh, he definitely liked. “So, how long is the trip?”

“Several hours, but we’re in no rush.” He lifted his staff, showing a small bundle wrapped in dark cloth. “Somethin’ to eat,” he clarified.

Her smile took an impish turn. “Oh, that’s too good. I wish I had known so I could have told my father that my plans included having a picnic with _that Bog King_. I don’t think he’d have known what to do with that.”

Bog made a face that was as much disgust as amusement. “I take it he isn’t pleased that I’m stealin you away.”

“He never is,” she said airily. “He’s just going to have to learn to deal with it. Food sounds great, though. Thank you.” She glanced back into her room – a bedroom she hardly used anymore – then back at him. “Let me tell my ladies that I’m leaving. Wait here.”

“Like I’d go anywhere,” he called, as she retreated further into the room, laughing.

* * *

 

The trip was, indeed, several hours, but the time passed quickly. It occurred to her, partway through, that she and Bog, though they frequently spent evenings and nights traveling the forest together, had never had so much uninterrupted time alone.

It was pleasant, extremely pleasant. They talked as often as they didn’t, stopped whenever they got tired, ate what he had brought – cubed pieces of strawberry and thin strips of dried meat – and studied the forest around them. Marianne had never gone this deep into the Dark Forest; a year ago she never would have even dreamed of being allowed this far, much less taken a pleasant journey aside the goblin king, whom she loved. She had always imagined the forest growing thicker the deeper one went, but that didn’t appear to be true. The trees grew larger, but there was still plenty of space between them for undergrowth to flourish and for them to fly unobstructed.

Still, while the time felt like little, she could see it pass as the forest’s colors cooled and darkened, with the sun slowly setting and shadow taking over. The midsummer heat faded into a humid but more pleasant warmth.

She had no idea where they were but trusted that Bog did. So when he landed, she took his hand, and drifted to the woodland floor beside him. She didn’t see anything new about the surroundings, except that the trees and foliage ahead of them was thinning. Still, holding her hand, his staff in the other, Bog began to walk forward, keeping her close at his side.

As they walked Marianne caught the sound of water ahead of them. Not the gentle trickling sound the stream in the Fields made, this was louder, more rushing, and Marianne could already tell that there was a great deal more water than the small waterway she knew. She could _smell_ the water in the air, like a mist, and she wasn’t surprised when Bog took a few steps ahead of her and pushed aside the underbrush with his staff to show her that they had reached their destination.

The area was indeed a confluence of streams, but what Bog had failed to mention was the streams came together in a series of rapids that boarded on small waterfalls, casting a perpetual mist into the air that made everything have a bit of a soft edge to it. In contrast, he two streams fell less into one combined stream and more into a pool, a large pool that tapered off on it’s southern edge to become the waterway both the Forest and the Fields knew well, creating the ridge where she and Bog stood. It was not much of a height but enough for Marianne to get a good view of where the festivities would be held.

The pool was fascinating; dusted with mist in the evening light, it seemed to glow. Lily pads dotted the pool, the likes of which she’d never seen. They were large, enormous, big enough to hold a quarter of the elf village on a single one, with lifted edges likes walls encircling them so that they looked like small, fenced-in rafts, and they appeared to be treated as such. Many of them appeared to have been tied together to keep from drifting to other edges of the pool, and many had small light globes strung along the pad-walls, creating what looked like small stages. The lights hit the mist in the air and made the entire pool look as though it were alight.

Those stages were tethered together, and together they were tied to the mossy and rocky shore on the calmest edge of the pool, there sat a long, low building that looked like it had been pieced together from drifted wood – but Marianne had a feeling it was more stable than it looked. The side facing the waterfront was completely open, and was lit from more light globes. It looked, over all, like a very rustic kind of great hall.

Along the remaining edges of the calm water, there were smaller lily pads tethered to the shore, dozens of them, like a harbor. They were rafts of various sizes, made out of a variety of materials, no two alike. Bog had called the Fae a fairly nomadic people, and she wondered if these weren’t their modes of transport, and places of residence all in one.

She could feel Bog’s eyes on her, watching her, gauging her reaction as he always did when he surprised her with a new sight or entertainment. She wondered what he saw on her face.

Finally she spoke. “This is… I’ve never seen anything like- it’s-“ Words eluded her and she fell back on, “ _Wow_.”

Bog laughed softly. “Wow is a good word,” he assured her. She looked up at him and he held his hand out to her. “Come on, Tough Girl.”

It was so strange to think they were going to a _party_ , that they were genuinely excited about going to a _party_. Marianne couldn’t remember the last time she’d considered a social event with anything but mild dread. Deep down, part of her remembered dancing and her stomach twisted, but the look on Bog’s face was enough to push it away.

She took his hand.

They’d made it a few steps, apparently electing to continue walking in the shade than flying down the ridge when there came a sound Marianne new well. It was the same sort of bussing that accompanied Bog when he flew, the sound of quick-moving dragonfly-like wings. But it wasn’t from Bog, who stood at her side…

“Well, if it isn’t the king himself!” A voice boomed around them, and a second later a figure hit the floor in front of Bog. As if on instinct, Bog released Marianne’s hand and stood in front of her, protection from a potential threat. An instant later, however, his posture relaxed.

“Lupine,” he said. “Of course they’d have ye play sentry.”

Marianne peaked around Bog, trying to get a look at the Fae. And the creature was undoubtedly a Fae. They had Bog’s build, almost exactly – though the chest and shoulder plates were smaller. Their shoulder’s had strings of golden beads decorating them, and more strings hung as earrings. The coloring was mostly the same as Bog, bark-toned chitin and pale skin. Their eyes were a red-brown and the leafy hair was a shocking shade of purple, like some of the wildflowers she had seen in the area. They were, in fact, taller than Bog, though not by much.

“What d’ye mean _playin_? Just cause I ain’t whappin things about with that ceremonial twig of yours, doesn’t mean I can’t keep a lookout.”

Marianne couldn’t tell for sure but something in the voice had her thinking the stranger was female, with a thicker accent than Bog had even when he was angry. When Bog laughed, she realized that the Fae – Lupine – was teasing him, and started at the two of them in wonder. Aside from her and Dawn, it was rare for a creature to tease the Bog King… or rather to tease him and expect him to take it well.

“Aye but what will ye do if ye find something?” Bog retorted.

“I’ll run,” she said cheerfully. “I’m very good at it.”

“No doubt.”

Marianne couldn’t help but snort, and Lupine’s resulting laugh cut off, as if she had only just then noticed that there was another creature there. Marianne stepped out from behind Bog, trying not to feel awkward about it. She’d never been big on meeting new people.

Lupine looked at Marianne for a long few seconds, before looking back at Bog and eloquently asking him, “What is that?”

Marianne blinked, a little too startled to be offended, but before she could respond Bog spoke. “ _She’_ s a fairy – Yer not so young not to know what one looks like, are ye?”

“I’m older than ye, _yer majesty_ , so watch yer quips,” Lupine returned. “I _know_ she’s a fairy but what is she-“

“Marianne,” Bog said, speaking over the fae smoothly. “This is Lupine. She’s my...” he paused, his brows scrunching together with thought. He looked back at Lupine.

She fiddled with one of her earrings. “Agh, BK, why are ye lookin at me? I’m terrible at this.” She moved to count on her fingers, as long and claw-like as Bog’s. “Lessee, yer grandfather an’ my father were cousins so that would makes us… also cousins?”

“Cousins,” Bog agreed with a decisive nod. “This is my cousin, Lupine. Lu, Marianne is my lover.”

Marianne, who had been trying to figure out that tangled family tree herself – and studying what looked like floral designs literally _carved_ into Lupine’s arms, blushed at the ease in which Bog announced her relation to him. They tripped frequently over what to call their relationship, and lover was certainly the best they’d found so far, but Marianne was still trying to get used to it. When she hadn’t been paying attention it appeared, had settled into it.

Lupine blinked a few more times, her eyes looking between Bog and Marianne. And then she grinned; her teeth were jagged and sharp, but Marianne saw nothing but delight in her expression, like a child given a gift. “Ah can’t believe it, BK! It’s about bloody time, an’ a’course ye’d take a fairy! Gods and Spirits, you’re just like yer father – no one in _yer own_ race good enough for you, you gotta go whisk off with someone else’s princess. Ah- no offense, Mar.”

By this point, Marianne was getting used to Lupine. She was loud, a bit crass but in a way that seemed she knew it. From Bog’s posture she knew could tell that even when the fae was trying to be offensive, it was all in good humor. She realized what Bog meant when he said that the Fae might be a bit much for Dawn… a well-bred fairy would have no idea how to handle Lupine.

But Marianne had never been much of a well-bred fairy.

So she grinned. “None taken. How did you know I was a princess?”

“Lucky guess. He’s got his da’s tastes. Though I’ll bet it’s a story an’ a half how he won ye.”

“It’s a story, all right,” Marianne agreed with a snort. She glanced sidelong and Bog, “Though not so much the… winning me part. That came – surprisingly easy.”

Bog smiled down at her, though she could see him blushing. That pleased her enormously.

“Well, c’mon then. I’ll gather the team – let them know his majesty the king’s arrived.” Lupine shot Marianne a wink and took off again, intent on the long wooden building.

There was a few seconds of silence while they registered all that had happened.

“You okay, Tough Girl?” Bog asked quietly. “I’m afraid that’s all the warning you’re gonna get for the Fae.”

“She seems nice,” Marianne said, though she sounded winded. Bog raised a leafy eyebrow and she elbowed his arm. “She does! I see you two get along.”

Bog scratched the back of his neck. “Aye, we- we do. Lu’s an easy one to get along with, especially if she decides she likes you. I mean- she’s like a sister, y’know?”

He rushed that last bit and it occurred to Marianne that he thought she might be jealous. She had to laugh; the idea honestly would have never crossed her mind. Lupine and Bog seemed to react to each other the way she did with Sunny. Besides, she’d have to have been deaf not to hear the pride and adoration that colored his voice when he had introduced her as his lover.

When he looked adorably confused by her reaction, she elbowed him again. “Bog, you’re an idiot.” Before he could say anything, she added, “I love you.”

“I-I love ye, too. Maria-“

“Come on. We’re not going to keep the party waiting.”

He chuckled. “Like they’ve ever waited for me,” he said. He wrapped her hand in his again, and they took flight together.

The lily pad stages were even larger up close than they had been from the ridge, and Marianne was so distracted by them when they touched down that she was nearly bowled over completely at the sudden swarm of Bog Fae around her. Bog’s comment about lack of warning suddenly made sense.

They rushed Bog first, and she watched in awe at how similar they all looked to him. They were, surprisingly, more colorful. The leafy texture of Bog’s hair came in varieties of shapes, colors, even lengths – she saw a few with what looked like long vines, some down, some tied back. Their eyes, far as she could tell, were in reds, golds and greens, and many of them, like Lupine, had designs carved into their chitin, like it was fashion.

They called him ‘BK’, almost exclusively, when they weren’t calling him ‘your majesty’ in sarcastic, almost mocking tones. Bog, however, never took offense.

He was the shortest of all of them. It was fascinating.

Finally, from the mass of Fae, Marianne heard Lupine’s voice. “Didn’t ye hear? BK here brought a girl!”

And Marianne had half a second to think **_oh no_** , before she was swarmed.

“Gods, she’s the smallest thing I’ve ever seen. Ye sure she’s fully grown, BK?” One asked.

“Aren’t ye ever worried about breakin’ her?” Another jeered.

“Ah, I’d bet she’s feistier than she looks. We should be worryin’ if he’s enough for her!”

Helplessly, Marianne met a pair of blue eyes, and watched as Bog looked unsure if he should be concerned, apologetic or amused.

A few more – men, she was sure – were making comments about how this pretty little fairy was too much for one man to handle, and she snorted. She knew they wanted to fluster her, and she knew they were harmless. She also knew how to mess with guys like that. “Oh, I know I’m too much for any of _you_ , trust me. But my lover there is a _king_ ,” she emphasized, with a dramatic wink at Bog. “And he certainly knows how to… handle me.”

They went into gales of laughter, a few whistled, and someone said, “That’s a keeper, BK!” Marianne lauighed, and looked at Bog again. He was getting nudged by a few of the Fae beside him, and his ears were red, but his grin was wicked and gleeful.

“All right, all right!” She heard someone say. “We’ve hailed the chief – now are we goin’ ta eat or aren’t we?”

In the mass migration that followed that statement, Marianne and Bog were allowed another moment in relative privacy. “I could get used to them,” Marianne told him, with a wicked grin of her own.

“Gods help me,” Bog muttered. “Should have known they’d be yer people, Tough Girl.”

“Are they always like this?”

He shrugged. “I think it comes with only seein’ each other twice a year. Like havin’ one big family reunion.”

Marianne snorted. “If my family’s reunions were like this I’d actually enjoy going to them.” Bog laughed, and she bumped her shoulder against his arm. “So what do we eat here?”

“Same as goblins, fruit and meat – fish, mostly.”

She blinked. “Fish.”

“Ye’ve never-“ he began, then shook his head. “No, I suppose ye haven’t. Ye’ll like it, I think. If nae, there’ll be enough fruit, I’m sure. C’mon,” he guided her inside.

She had been right about the building being like a grand hall. There was one long table, made from the same driftwood as the exterior. The only seats were on the enclosed side, so that all seats had a view of the waterfront and the lily pads. It was admittedly, a beautiful view, especially as it grew darker outside and the light globes on the pads lit up the stages, and created a hazy glow in the mist that floated above the water. “What’re they for?” She asked Bog, as they sat.

But it was the Fae sitting on his other side that answered. “Ah’d think a fairy would know a dance floor when she saw one!” It was a male, she thought; his chitin and skin greyer than most and a thorn-stubbly chin.

She flushed, a little indignant and a lot surprised. Bog, between them, saved her from a response. “I don’t remember ye havin’ ever met a fairy, to know them so well.”

The Fae blinked but nodded with a crooked smile, appearing unable to combat that logic. Marianne poked Bog’s nose playfully. “Look at you – it’s almost like you weren’t completely isolated from us a few months ago.”

Bog wrinkled his nose, flushing slightly. Beside him, the Fae laughed. “Ye really did meet yer match in that one, BK – how’d ye manage that?”

He flushed deeper, scratching his cheek. “I ask myself that daily,” he said.

“ _Bog_!” Marianne shoved him. He rubbed his arm and smiled at her, sheepish but happy.

He was so happy, she realized. It was strange, it occurred to her that none of the Fae really treated Bog like he was their king, and he probably enjoyed that. Even Stuff and Thang, who could get away with more informality after years of service, still had some measure of knowledge of their class difference.

This prompted a couple Fae further on Bog’s other side to talk about winning their partners. The stories getting more and more outlandish to the point where Marianne couldn’t tell which were jokes, except that she was pretty sure when they started to repeat that it was a True Story, with winks around the table, it probably was not.

“Woah there,” The Fae immediately next to Bog, who had started this topic, interrupted loudly at one point. “Maybe don’t tell that one in front of the princess.” He winked at her. “Not offendin’ ye, are we?”

“Don’t worry,” Marianne said dryly. “You’re not.”

“No?” He asked. She nodded and he groaned. “Damn! And we were really tryin’ that time.”

Bog rolled his eyes. “Marianne, this is Carmi. He’s as close to a diplamatic leader as this lot has.”

“An’ ye’d be bloody lost without me.” He said it loud enough that Marianne wasn’t sure if he was addressing Bog or the Fae around them. Everyone, including Bog, laughed, so that didn’t really answer it.

Fish was indeed the meat served, and thankfully also fruit as Marianne learned that she definitely did not like fish. She shoveled her section to Bog, who shot her an apologetic look. She rolled her eyes and told him to eat.

The whole table was full of conversation, and while at first Marianne was asked a myriad of questions, eventually the conversations tapered off to Fee talking with other Fae. She didn’t mind, as it allowed her to eavesdrop on Bog’s conversations with Carmi.

“Are ye sure ye don’t need supplies? Y’know we’ve got a surplus of weapons-“

“Since it doesn’t look like ye’ll be goin to war with the fairies, oh aye,” Carmi snorted. “Nae, son, we’ve never needed them before an’ we won’t need them now.”

“Ah know, but-“

“Are _ye_ doin all right? Yer winters are easier than ours but huntin’ in that forest never struck me as easy. We can trade food-“

“For what? Seein as nothing I’m offerin is good enough.” Bog lifted a hand to ward off a comment. “Nae, Carmi, we’re doin’ fine as ever. Better now, given that Mari- that the fairy kingdom is willing to-“

“Given that ye’ve got a lass that’s got yer back when ye need it.”

Bog groaned softly. “Gods, it’s a good thing ye’ve only met my mother a few times. I don’t think I could handle the both of ye at once.”

“How is tha’ little lady, anyway?”

Marianne had to stop listening to keep from laughing at Griselda being called ‘little lady’. The goblin woman was a force of nature more than anything.

A sudden horn blast interrupted those thoughts, and for a moment all conversation. Marianne hadn’t noticed a band being set up on the shore on the pool, just in front of the hall building, but it appeared as if it had manifested from thin air. A second later music began. It wasn’t like goblin music, quieter than that, but it was louder than fairy music. It had the same tempo she was used to from the elf festivals but brassier, with a steady drum beat that folk around her were already clapping to.

As she watched, half the table seemed to stand and migrate en masse to the outside, clapping and talking and laughing like they all knew what this meant. Dance floors, Marianne thought, eying the lit-up lily pads with less appreciation and more distress. It was a party, and what party didn’t have dancing?

There was no count she could follow, no moment in the music that said where you began, but that didn’t stop pair by pair of Fae from taking a spot on a pad and beginning to… dance, Marianne supposed. It wasn’t any dance she’d ever seen – it was fast, and dramatic, all twists and jumps and long spindly limbs moving in ways she hadn’t thought creatures that looked like trees could move. And she thought fairy waltzes were difficult.

It didn’t surprise her when she felt Bog’s eyes on her, she looked at him and smiled. “How do they not run into each other?”

“Years of practice,” he said, grinning back. “Mari-“

“Eyy BK!” Lupine appeared at the other end of the table, leaning across it, excitement making her eyes sparkle. “Come on, did you want-“ She looked at Marianne and then… blushed. Marianne hadn’t thought Lupine could do that. “Damn, forgot yer dance card’s full.” She gave Marianne another wink.

Marianne shook her head quickly. “By all means, you can have him on loan. I’m not- I’m not dancing.”

Bog touched her hand. “Marianne-“ he began.

She pushed herself up to kiss his cheek, and then whispered. “I’d probably get trampled out there. It’s not you, it’s me.”

That made him smile. “Are ye sure?” He asked.

“Of course I’m sure – go, have fun! I’ll be watching.” She gave him a shove in Lupine’s direction. The Fae caught his arm and actually pulled him over the table to her. “Hey!” Marianne called. “Keep him safe for me!”

Lupine cackled, and gave an elaborate bow. “Of course, princess! Of course!” Bog shot Marianne a look that might have been a glare if he hadn’t been laughing.

She watched them join the increasing number of dancers out on the lily pads. She watched them fill up and realized they did not seem quite so big when full of people swinging each other about with such abandon. She really did feel like she might get trampled.

Still, she watched them move, trying to concentrate on one pairing at a time, and got an idea of how one did this kind of dancing. They twisted their legs and their hips, they spun around one another, they pulled each other away and then back – there was so much momentum to their movements, as if once they started it was easier to just keep going. Their wings buzzed, but stayed down, unlike fairy dancing where – even when staying on the ground, flaring your wings was such an important movement, a way to show off almost.

Another thing occurred to her as she watched, that set it apart from any dancing she knew; there was no sense of uniformity. Many of the steps looked the same, and she saw most of the pairs do something another pair had done, and they were all moving in-time… but no couple did the same thing at the same time as another. There was no formation to it, no exact steps.

“They’re all doing different things,” Marianne said aloud. Too late, she looked at the person beside her and was both relieved and embarrassed to find it was Carmi.

He snorted loudly. “What – an’ fairies all do the same thing, in perfect time with every other dancer?” Marianne nodded and he shook his head. “Sounds like the most boring spectacle in all the world.”

She had to laugh. “Oh, believe me – it is.”

They fell silent again as she watched. Despite the fae all having mostly similar color schemes, it was easy to pick Bog out. He was on the pad closest to them, spinning Lupine under his arm, once, twice, again and again. How the Fae didn’t fall over eluded Marianne.

“Sorry Ah stole yer man’s attention most of the dinner.”

Marianne dragged her eyes away. “No, that was fine. I was interested.” He made a disbelieving sound and she laughed. “Really, I was. I want to learn as much about diplomacy as I can before – I mean, when- in case, there’s- there comes a time I need to know… you know?”

Carmi’s gaze was unnervingly knowing. “Expectin’ t’be a Queen soon, lass?”

She flushed a fiery red. “No! I mean, not _soon_ , anyway. Bog and I haven’t even talked about it. And I’m not- I’m not ready to marry anyone anytime soon. So it’s just…” Blushing, she looked back at the dancers, her voice dropping to a mumble. “Someday.”

He let the matter drop, following her gaze. They were silent for a few minutes before he asked, “Ye gonna let him take ye for a spin?”

Marianne’s laugh was probably louder and wilder than it needed to be. “Oh no. No, no. I’m – we’re good.”

“A fairy who’s nae a dancer,” he said, whistling a long impressed note.

She shot him a look. “And how many fairies have you met, again?”

He laughed. “Ye should let him take ye out there. I think ye’d like it.”

“Yeah and Bog said he thought I’d like fish,” she retorted. Carmi only laughed louder. “It’s really, really fine. I like watching him well enough. It’s – entertaining.”

Once again, he dropped it, though she could feel him watching as she turned her attention back toward Bog and Lupine and the rest of the dancers.

He’d thrown her, literally thrown her into the air, and more amazing was that she came down. She never opened her wings to slow or guide her decent, just fell. Bog caught her and did something where he spun her around his back the same way he would his staff. A couple people cheered around them – a few had even stopped dancing to give them space.

No one seemed surprised that the Bog King could dance, not the way she was. They all knew, and they knew because he’d done it before, because this was a place he felt happy and comfortable – Marianne knew that instinctively. She knew that was why she couldn’t dance, and why she didn’t like surprises; it all came down to feeling uncomfortable with people around her watching her, expecting something from her. She was the clumsy fairy princess, and even with her relationship with Bog to some extent her insecurities remained.

Marianne liked the Fae, from what she’d seen of them, liked them a lot, but they weren’t her people the way they were Bog’s. She watched Bog and Lupine dance and felt envy settle unpleasantly in her gut. She was learning to let people in again, learning to love herself for all that she was, and being with Bog helped… but she wanted more. She wanted to be able to dance with him.

Carmi was still looking at her and she spared him a glance. “He said he wasn’t particularly good,” She said, hoping the deadpan delivery hid her feelings.

Carmi shook his head. “That kid’s head makes no sense t’me. He’s loud as thunder, confidant in his rule, but he’ll turn around an beat himself harder than he’s got any reason to.” Catching Marianne’s quizzical expression he waved a hand, impatient. “He’s nae one of us, though ye might think so if ye didn’t know, an he’s certainly nae fairy. He’s a goblin at heart, though he’ll never look like one… but by _any_ creature’s standards I’d never call him-“

“Hideous,” Marianne finished.

Carmi gave her a crooked grin. “Y’know, we’ve – well, Lu had been tellin’ him that for ages, an’ it sounds like ol’ Grizz had been to. But ye, little fairy… yer the first person that’s got him _believin_ it. It shows.” He nodded to the dancers, to Bog cartwheeling Lupine over his arm, only for her to do immediately plant her feet and do the same to him. “Ah havenae seen our king this happy in years.”

“I’m working on it,” she said honestly, when she could speak. She could feel her cheeks burning red. “And so is he. Some things are… hard to break from.”

“Like you an’ dancin,” Carmi said.

Marianne opened her mouth, then closed it, with a bitter smile. “You know, Bog failed to mention how smart you all are.”

Carmi laughed. “It’s our best kept secret, lass.”

The song fizzled out in a series of brass clunks and fizzling drums, and in the resulting silence Carmi shouted. “BK!”

Bog looked over, startled and a little breathless.

“What kind of King leaves his Queen alone with old fools like me?”

Marianne hit her head on the table. “Carmi,” she groaned. “Don’t.”

“Too late,” the old Fae said cheerfully.

Too late indeed. Marianne didn’t know what Bog had said to Lupine but as the music began again she had found another partner and he landed back at the table.

“Are ye all right?” He asked, concern blatant in his blue eyes. Marianne wanted to curl up in a whole.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she said with a pointed look at Carmi.

“She wants to dance,” Carmi said, happily ignoring Marianne’s look.

Bog rubbed his temple. “Carmi, could ye give us a moment?” For a moment, it really did sound like he was talking to his mother.

Thankfully, Carmi listened. Leaving the hall empty except for the two of them.

“Ah- Ah hope he wasn’t makin’ ye uncomfortable,” Bog began.

“No, no,” she said quickly. “No, he was- it was a good conversation… about a lot of things.”

“ _Did_ ye want to dance?”

She looked at him, feeling her cheeks flush and her heart speed up. “I-“

He quickly interrupted. “Don’t say ye do, if ye really don’t. Mari- I mean it, I’m nae gonna make you do anything ye don’t want to. I don’t want ye to feel pressured by anyone, especially not me.”

He looked at the empty hall, with her still sitting where she had been at dinner. He took a seat on the table itself and motioned for her to come sit next to him. She did, drawing her knees up.

“I’m sorry,” he added, lowering his voice. “I feel like I’ve been… neglecting ye all night.”

“Oh, Bog. Bog, no,” she said, her heart twisting a little at his words. She didn’t want him to blame himself, and she hated that he could always tell when she was uncomfortable or upset. None of it was his fault. “No, this has been fun, I swear. Watching you has been fun. You know I don’t really participate in parties…”

“Aye, but I’m usually not-participaatin with ye.”

She waved him off. “Look, I’m not going to complain because you’re… at home, here.”

Bog blinked. “I’m not at home-“

“Oh, you know what I mean. You’re comfortable, here– and that’s good!”

“Marianne, I’m not-“ He stopped, shaking his head. “That’s not- not the same thing. I like these parties, but they’re _parties_. Tomorrow, they’ll go back to livin’ on the water, all goin’ their separate ways. Ah’ve never been able to wrap my head around that life. My father’s blood or no, they’re as different to me as they are to you.”

She looked at him, trying to understand how he’d somehow still managed to cut to the heart of her sour emotions. It wasn’t that she’d felt jealous that Bog was with people that made him comfortable – it was that she felt she’d never had those people, even in her own race.

“I’m comfortable when I’m back at my castle,” he continued, a hint of dry humor under the almost achingly earnest tone of his voice. “I’m at home whenever I’m with ye.”

Marianne’s face was burning now and she could feel her eyes prickling. She looked at the dancers, only sparing him the slightest sidelong glance. “See?” She asked wildly. “This is what I mean about you getting sentimenta-mmm!”

She was cut off, as Bog caught her face in his hands, drawing her close and kissing her. Her surprise melted away and she leaned into the kiss, lifting a hand to cradle the back of his head. Her worries felt so stupid now, but even that felt unimportant compared to how she felt when Bog kissed her like she meant everything to him. It didn’t matter that she didn’t feel much at home with fairies, or goblins, or the Fae. She felt at home when she was with him. Wherever they were, whatever they were doing, no matter how fun or how dull, it was always better when they got to do it together.

Breaking the kiss, Bog rested his forehead on hers. If any of the Fae noticed their embrace, for once they had the tact not to make a scene out of it. They smiled breathlessly at one another while the sound of the most recent song faded into cheers and whistles. Marianne heard the movement of people changing partners and positions, and spoke without taking her eyes off him.

“Do you want to dance with me?”

“Mari-“

“Bog,” she interrupted. “Do you _want_ to dance with me?”

She held his eyes with hers, making sure he understood. Finally, he nodded. “Aye, I do.”

“Then come on,” she hopped to her feet, and dragged him to his as well. “Teach me.”

He shook his head, but he knew better than to argue with her when she was determined. He let her drag him toward the stages, and only stopped her when they came to the band. He said something to one of them, and they all nodded. The dealt with, he picked her up, and flew her smack dab into the middle of the front stage.

Immediately they were noticed.

Lupine whistled. “BK’s takin’ his Queen for a go after all!” It appeared now that Carmi had called Marianne Bog’s Queen, there was no stopping anyone. Several Fae cheered and all at once they shifted to circle them, giving them the floor. Marianne gulped.

Bog still held her close. “Think of it like sparrin’, Tough Girl,” he murmured.

“I don’t have my sword,” she hissed.

His laugh was low, reverberating, felt more than heard. “Like a spar, I said. Like how we spar – we’re playin off each other, followin each other’s lead.”

“Huh,” she muttered. She would have said more but the music began.

It was slower than anything that had played, jazzier, with the same beat as everything else, just gentler, more underlying. A few whistles were heard, and Marianne realized how disgustingly romantic this looked. She looked up at Bog, who’s blue eyes were lit as much with the golden glow of the light globes around them as with his smile.

She fucking loved it.

The dance began pretty common to the fairy waltzes they had previously denounced. She attempted to follow him step for step, and when he spun her out she expected to be drawn back in immediately and slipped a bit on the floor of the pad. Bog gave raised a leafy brow, in playful challenge. She flushed but damn him, he knew how to appeal to her competitive side. When he swung her out again she let herself slide, and then when he tugged her back used the momentum to spin around him.

The spin made her skirt flare out just as she had hoped it might. She hadn’t counted on their audience cheering for that as much as the attempt at an actual dance move. Bog caught her when she came back around, spinning her once more under his arm before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close against him again.

She wasn’t going to master it anytime soon, it was clear, but she didn’t think she minded when it meant she was so close to him.

“So,” she said softly. “You chose this song for us?”

He made an affirming noise.

“You’re not going easy on me are you?”

“Oh, Tough Girl, Tough Girl,” Bog spun her away, sending her twirling her under his arm, and pulled her back. When she was against him again, he continued as if no time had passed. “That’s one thing I’d never do.”

She laughed. “Then you chose it because it meant we got to do this.” She swung her hips in a circle, before rocking against his. He inhaled sharply.

Someone laughed. She bet it was Lupine.

“Marianne,” he breathed.

“What?” She said, smirking. “You said to think of it like our spars, or did you forget how those usually end?”

He cursed softly under his breath, before continuing the dance. When she was close enough to him again he said, “I’m goin t’ toss ye.”

“You’re going to what?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes unfocused as if he was actually seeing the music, counting it out in his head. Then, when he pulled her back toward him, one his arms came around her back twisting her up and flipping her into the air. Marianne squeaked loud enough to be heard over everyone’s cheering and at the last minute told her wings not to open, not to fly, despite every instinct. Her skirt flew up around her as she let gravity do it’s thing.

Bog caught her, hands under her legs so for a second she straddled his torso and was eye level with him. She wanted to yell at him but found she was laughing too loud, her cheeks flushed with adrenaline. Then he released one leg to catch her waist and lower her back to the floor.

The music didn’t so much as end as shift seamlessly into a louder, faster piece. As it picked up suddenly the rest of the Fae were flooding the dance floor around them. Some of them paused to clap Marianne or Bog on the back.

Marianne barely registered it; she wrapped her arms around Bog’s neck and kept laughing, adrenaline coursing through her.

“Come on, Tough Girl,” she heard him murmur under the noise. “Yer gonna get trampled.”

He picked her up again, this time depositing them on the rocky shore. She dipped her feet in the water and took a deep breath.

“That- that was- I’ve never- that was- wow,” she finally breathed.

“Wow’s a good word,” Bog agreed.

“Word of the night,” she said sagely, and he laughed. “I am having fun, you know.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m glad ye’re here.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, an oddly quiet moment passing between them in the raucous music around them. Finally she said, “I take it we’re not going back to your castle tonight.”

“Gods no,” he said. “They’ll put us up somewhere. Royal suites,” he said sarcastically, before looking at her. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, definitely.”

It was getting late, too. Marianne didn’t so much see people leave as see the dance floors grow less crowded. The music seemed to grow softer, even the lights felt like they were dimming. Marianne nestled closer to her lover.

“Bog?”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks for taking me.”

He shifted, and a moment later she felt him kiss the crown of her head, and together they watched the party die down.


End file.
